The White Cliffs of Dover
by LynstHolin
Summary: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Abraxas Potter/Charlus Potter A mysterious trunk leads Harry and Draco, who are now married, to discover something surprising about their grandfathers.


Warnings: non-explicit sexiness

This story incorporates 'For Victory,' which no longer exists as an individual story.

These versions of Abraxas Malfoy and Charlus Potter, and their relationship, are from the head-canon of Thorsmaven-many thanks for letting me play with your boys! Also, thanks to cinephan for coming up with the idea of expanding 'For Victory' this way. And thank you very much to Escartias from dA for beta-ing this monster!

Harry and Draco in this story are older versions of the Harry and Draco from 'The Count of Five' and 'The Count of Six.'

I took some liberties with the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow.

...

Harry was stretched out on the couch doing the crossword puzzle in the Daily Prophet when something came hurtling out of the fireplace. "What the-"

It was a green trunk with a note Spello-taped to it: 'Harry Potter, I found this in my attic.' Harry inspected the trunk, which looked like military issue. The name 'Charlus Potter' was painted on top of the lid. Harry sucked in his breath. His grandfather! Harry slowly reached out a hand and caressed the trunk. He had so little from his family. What a precious gift this was.

"Alohamora." The trunk stayed shut. "Godric Gryffindor." The lid of the trunk flew open. Grandpa Charlus was not the most creative thinker, apparently. The very first thing Harry took out of the trunk was an olive-drab flight jacket. On one sleeve was a patch with an insignia of two crossed brooms and the words '101st Wizard Squadron'. Harry vaguely remembered a teacher at Hogwarts mentioning the role of wizards in World War Two. The Germans had started using wizards first, and Britain had necessarily had to recruit its own 'broomstick battalion'.

Beneath the jacket was a large, rolled sheet of paper. Unfurling it, Harry found that it was a pin-up of a curvy cutie on a broomstick, wearing nothing but a pointed hat and military boots. She winked and blew kisses, her bosom barely covered by her black hair, and had one leg bent up slightly to preserve her modesty. The bottom of the poster said 'For Victory'.

Below that were a couple of war-era photographs of Charlus Potter posed with other members of the Broomstick Battalion. Charlus looked quite a bit like James: tall, thin and bespectacled, and with an affable grin. There were also some girlie photos and a program from a burlesque show in the trunk. Unlike his grandson, Charlus had an eye for the ladies.

And men, too? The picture Harry was now holding in his hand was a snap-shot of a naked man on a broomstick, posing like the girl in the 'For Victory' poster. His half-moon glasses and sour expression made him look prim, but his leonine blond hair hinted at a hidden sensuality. Now, _this _Harry liked. The man was short, with a superbly muscular build. His thighs were delicious. Hmm... something about the facial features... the narrow, sharp face, the nose that arched out grandly and then came to a point... Harry glanced at the portrait of Abraxas Malfoy that Draco had insisted on hanging in their Notting Hill home. The old man looked a bit terrifying to Harry, but Draco had adored his grandfather. Could this be him?

Harry flipped the photo over. On the back someone with atrocious penmanship had written, 'It took enough wiskey to drop a bull elephant but we got Abe to do it. He'll never play poker with the vetrans of the 101st Wizard Squadron again. Thats' what he gets for sitting out the war ha ha ha.'

Harry laughed until tears streamed from his eyes. He wondered how much money Draco or Lucius would be willing to pay to suppress this photo.

The front door opened and Harry heard the rustle of shopping bags being set down on a kitchen counter. "I'm making chateaubriand tonight," Draco called, "And I've picked up a lovely red to go with it. What kind of lettuce would you prefer in your salad, lolla rossa or oakleaf?"

"Draco, get in here. I've got something to show you."

"Is it just you naked on the couch? Because you showed me that last night, too."

"No, it's a picture. You have to see this."

Draco walked into the living room, dressed impeccably in white linen slacks and a raspberry-colored henley shirt. Harry shoved the photo into Draco's hand. Draco took one look at it and reacted as if it was a tarantula. "BLERG!" He whipped his hand away from his body, flinging the picture into a far corner. "Why would you show me a nude photo of my _grandfather_? What is wrong with you?" He was still shaking his hand, like he was trying to rid himself of cooties.

Harry was laughing again, so hard that he had to drop down on the couch. "Come on, don't you think it's funny?" he asked when he got his breath back.

"What I think is that it should be burned." Draco had his hands on his hips and his chin was jutting out.

"I had no idea old Abe was so sexy."

"Do shut up."

"You know, you could take a potion that would make you hair grow, and we could get you some glasses like that and-"

"That's it. You're sleeping on the couch tonight." Draco stalked off into the kitchen while Harry clutched his laughter-sore stomach. The radio was clicked onand tuned to a pop station, and the sounds and smells of cooking filtered out into the living room. Harry could hear Draco singing along to a Lady Gaga song. He was sure that Draco was dancing, too, but the blond would deny it to the end. Sneaking up on him to catch him was impossible; Draco had the hearing of a cat.

While waiting for dinner to get done, Harry dug through the trunk some more. A manila envelope held more photos, including shots of Charlus and Abraxas dancing. Harry was intrigued. Were the two of them actually friends? The only other item in the trunk was an unsigned Valentine's Day card. It was far more than Harry had of his grandfather before, but it was still so little.

"Dinner's ready," Draco announced. He still sounded frosty. When Harry walked into the kitchen, his back was a little stiff.

"Aw, you're not still upset, are you?" Harry put his arms around Draco and nibbled on his neck.

"I'm not upset, I'm offended," Draco replied, but he was smiling.

Harry sat down and started cutting into his tenderloin. "So, did you know that our grandfathers knew each other?"

"Not a clue."

"Huh."

...

Lucius shrugged. "I believe Father mentioned that they went to school together. Why do you ask?"

Harry showed his father-in-law the pictures of James and Abraxas dancing. They each had a different girl as a partner in each shot. In one, they danced with each other as on-lookers laughed and clapped. "I'd say they were friends."

"Could be. That was a long time ago."

"Is there anything from Abraxas' school days around? Maybe some photo albums. If they were friends, there might be some pictures of Charlus."

Lucius twirled his wine glass between his hands. "Abraxas wasn't the sentimental sort. He didn't keep such things. Now." Lucius stood up. "Who's up for a game of Snooker?"

Draco and Harry gave each other significant looks. Harry had his Auror instincts, and, though he'd left his position with the Crime Scene Analysis division of the the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over a decade ago, raising two very intelligent, wilful daughters had honed Draco's detective instincts. They both knew Lucius was being evasive. But they had to curb their curiousity for the time being.

They followed Lucius to the billiards room. The elder Malfoy was only in his sixties, which was not all that old for a wizard, but he moved like he was ancient. Grief for his late wife had diminished him. Playing snooker with him was an exercise in patience; he did everything so slowly these days. First, he had to take his glasses, half-moons like those his father had worn, out of his robe, clean them of invisible smudges, adjust the arms, and then put them on so he could see well enough to line up a shot. "Have you two thought any more about moving in with me? I'd be able to see the girls more often when they're out of school. I don't see how you can stand living in that filthy Muggle city, anyway."

Harry made a noncommittal noise. Draco's sex drive tended to go completely dead when he was under his father's roof, so they would move in over Harry's dead body, no matter how lonely Lucius got. Harry found his eyes wandering to a wedding portrait of Abraxas and Elenore Malfoy. Elenore towered over her groom, and her satin gown hugged a waist of impossible narrowness. Her elegant facial features, which had been on the covers of many fashion magazines in the Forties and early Fifties, were echoed in Lucius and Draco. She stood stiffly at Abraxas' side, and neither looked very happy. There was a story there.

After a couple of hours, Lucius sat in his favorite chair with a snifter of brandy. "Just a refresher, and I'll finish the game," he said. But, as usual, he fell asleep with the brandy only half-gone. When he began to snore (which he adamantly insisted he never did), Harry and Draco tiptoed out, leaving Lucius for the house elves to take care of.

Taking Harry's hand, Draco led him wordlessly upstairs, then down a hallway where Harry'd never been before. He opened an oak door carved with grapevines. "This was grandfather's room," he said quietly.

It was a very masculine space decorated in browns and greens. Most of the wooden floor was covered by the hide of some massive, wiry-haired beast. The heads of dozens of creatures protruded from the walls, and there was a taxidermied Yeti in one corner, its head nearly touching the ceiling. "I see that Abraxas liked to take him work home with him," Harry said. These were most likely creatures that Abraxas had been required to dispatch while doing antiquities reclamation for the Ministry.

Draco picked up a picture frame from a dresser top and showed it to Harry. It was a photograph of Draco as a very small boy, clinging to the Yeti's back with a gigantic grin splitting his tiny face. "I loved this room so much when he was alive." Harry decided that he was going to steal the photo as soon as Draco turned his back.

"So, what are you thinking of, searching this room?"

Draco shook his head and pointed at the ceiling, where a hatch was just barely visible. "When I asked him what was behind the hatch, Grandfather told me he kept child-eating monsters there. And one of the few times he ever hit me was when he caught me up on a ladder, trying to break in. He was a very private man. If he kept anything, it's up there."

"I suppose it's been sealed." Harry took his wand out. "Alohamora. Salazar Slytherin. Elenor. Lucius. Yeti. Wiltshire Wasps."

Draco was laughing at Harry. "You don't honestly think _Abraxas Malfoy _would use the name of his favorite Quidditch team for a locking charm, do you? He was never that simple, trust me."

Harry scratched his head with the tip of his wand. There was a way to find out, as every Auror knew, but it took time. He produced a small version of his Patronus and sent it to the trapdoor. Now it was time to wait. "What shall we do in the meantime?" he asked Draco. His gaze fell on the bed, which was covered with a gray and green tartan wool bedspread.

"Don't even think about it," Draco snapped when he saw what Harry was looking at.

"I'll bet it's been at least sixty years since this bed saw any action."

Draco gave Harry a look that would have frightened nearly anyone else. After twenty years with him, Harry was immune to Draco's death-stares."And it won't see any 'action' tonight, either."

"Fine." Harry toed his shoes off and stretched out on the bed, patting the empty space next to him. "Let's nap, then. I'll keep my filthy paws to myself, I promise."

A tickle in his ear woke Harry up a few hours later. "Charlus," said a tiny voice.

"What?" Harry sat up. A miniature glowing stag zoomed around his head.

"Charlus," the tiny voice said again, and Harry realized that it was his Patronus speaking to him. _Charlus_. The word that guarded Abraxas' secrets was the name of Harry's grandfather.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We're going up." Harry shook Draco awake.

There were probably more ridiculous sights than two middle-aged men climbing up into a trapdoor, Harry was sure, but he couldn't name any at the moment. _I really need to cut down on the beer and chips_, he thought to himself as he squeezed through the narrow opening. Once his feet were steady on the creaky, splintery floor, he lit his wand. It was a pie-shaped space just under a slanted eave, and all it contained was an old steamer trunk. Harry could just make out very faded words that were inked on it: 'Claudius Malfoy 1901'.

Draco stared at it for a long moment. "I feel odd about doing this."

"For me, Draco?"

"Oh, I suppose." The two of them knelt and went to work at the rusty, grape-fruit sized lock. The metal finally melted into dust, and Harry eagerly popped the lid open. Inside were some letters written in a childish hand. _Dear Abraxas_, the top one said, _I taked to my parents about you and they sayd you can come spend the rest of Cristmas holidays with us here. Youres, Charlus Potter_

Harry flipped through the rest of the letters; they were all from Charlus, and covered several years. Charlus and Abraxas had been school friends.

"Look at this." Draco held a black and white photo of two boys, one blond, one black-haired, both bespectacled. The dark-haired boy wore a plaid newsboy-style cap on his head, and he was doing his best to get the much shorter blond boy to laugh. When Charlus attempted a handstand and landed hard on his rump instead, Abraxas raised one eye-brow. "That was grandfather's version of laughing his arse off."

There were a few other photographs. In every one, Charlus grinned while Abraxas had the same slightly sour expression. "What on earth was you grandfather so angry about all the time?" Harry asked.

"Trust me, that wasn't his angry face. That was just... his face."

Harry watched Charlus literally running circles around Abraxas, frolicking in fresh snow like a puppy while the blond boy watched him with his eye-brow raised again.

"Those two, friends? I wonder how that ever came about," Harry mused.

_A gangly, black-haired boy squirmed in his mother's embrace. "Mum, I'm too old for that!"_

_"You'll always be my little baby boy, Charlus."_

_The boy laughed. "Yuck! Do you have to say things like that in public?"_

_His father snatched the plaid cap off the boy's head and gave him a playful swat on the behind with it. "Respect your mother, son. She's the only one you've got until I get the girl that works at the apothecary to run away with me." He ruffled the boy's hair, making it look even messier. _

_Abraxas sat stiffly on his father's old trunk as he watched the happy family, feeling out of place at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He kept his face in its usual neutral-to-sour expression, but inside he was seething with envy. Though his parents had never been as playful or openly affectionate as the other boy's parents, Abraxas had never doubted that they loved him very much, and that he was the center of their world. But they had both died when he was only seven. The War to End All Wars had taken all of Abraxas' family. His parents had lived fifteen years after they were gassed, but their bodies had finally just... given out. _

_The other boy's mother gave Abraxas a concerned look, then whispered in her son's ear. The boy walked to Abraxas, grinning. "Hi! I'm Charlus Potter, nice to meet ya!"_

_..._

_"You can't be friends with a Gryffindor," Mervin Flint proclaimed._

_"Why not?" Abraxas replied tersely. He really wanted the Flint boy to go away. He was stupid and had breath bad enough to knock a giant unconscious._

_"It's just not not done. Slytherins are friends with other Slytherins, and Ravenclaws. Slytherins and Gryffindors are natural enemies, like dogs and cats."_

_"I once had a dog that was friends with a cat. Therefore, your argument is invalid."_

_Flint just blinked. He looked confused, but that was his usual expression. Frankly, Abraxas had no interest in making other friends. Charlus was enough for him. It was easy with Charlus. The black-haired boy talked enough for both of them, and it didn't bother him a bit if Abraxas didn't say anything back._

_"Come on, Abe!" Charlus called from the door to the Entrance Hall, "I want to play!"_

_Playing with other children was a novelty for Abraxas, who'd had a rather solitary childhood. It seemed to consist mostly of running madly, and shouting, and flopping about on the ground when it was necessary to enact a death scene. Some of the activities involved in playing were beneath Abraxas' dignity (especially the flopping about), but he did like the running, and the climbing of trees, and the wrestling. Anything that got his blood going. He'd been quite sickly when he was small, and now had an appreciation for his own strength and for what his body could do. _

_It was a lovely fall day, and the two boys took full advantage of it. "You're strong for such a little fellow!" Charlus exclaimed after Abraxas tossed the bigger boy on the ground during a spirited game of Wizards and Goblins._

_Small. Little. Short. Diminutive. Abraxas had gone to a fair in the village near Malfoy Manor the previous summer and had seen a muscle-man performing amazing feats of strength. He had picked up two teen-aged girls and set one on each shoulder, and then walked around as if the girls weighed nothing at all. The man had been short of stature, but no one had called him _small_. Abraxas decided that he needed to get muscles."I'm only little on the outside," he said to Charlus._

_Other children looked at Abraxas oddly when he said such things, but Charlus grinned and nodded. "That's very true."_

"May I keep these pictures and letters?" Harry asked Draco.

"Go ahead. But if my grandfather comes back to haunt me because of it, I'm sending him to you."

...

Loud squealing let Harry, Draco and Lucius know that they'd been spotted by the girls. Ellie and Chloe came pelting toward them, robes flying up above their knees. "No sense of decorum at all," Lucius sniffed, but he hugged them both. He was a much different man than he was before the war. He'd been utterly destroyed by what Voldemort had put him and his family through, and the man than eventually emerged from the wreckage was a much humbler version of Lucius Malfoy. The man who had once taught his son to use the word 'mudblood' was now a doting grandfather to two Muggle-borns. His only objection to the girls was Draco and Harry's refusal to change their names to ancestral Malfoy names. They'd both been two years old when the were adopted, given up by parents that couldn't handle having witches for daughters, and they had already known their own names.

Ellie tackled Harry, and Chloe clamped her arms around Draco's waist. Draco turned red. "We're not here for a social call. I cannot believe the two of you! Trying to tamper with the house points hourglasses? Are you trying to get expelled?"

Headmistress McGonagall rounded a corner, face like a thunder cloud. "I believe I told you two young ladies to stay in my office until your parents got here."

"But I got hungry," Ellie said.

"And I was bored," Chloe said.

McGonagall actually stopped and counted to ten. Harry had done the same plenty of times with the girls. Separately, they were angels. Together, they were terrors. "I take it that the Ravenclaw hourglass is now empty?" Harry asked.

The Headmistress' lips twitched like she was trying to suppress a smile. "Quite empty. I believe the other Ravenclaws are trying to get your girls ejected from the House. Come, let's go to my office."

The girls ended up with detention for the rest of the school year, fifty hours each of helping Filch, and a severe tongue-lashing from Draco. Afterwards, Lucius wanted to talk to the headmistress about an endowment for the school, and Harry and Draco wandered the halls of Hogwarts for a while. They had just passed the library door when Harry stopped short. Peering in, he could see Madam Pince running a feather duster lightly over the shelves, looking more like a vulture than ever.

She gave Harry and Draco an irritable look. "Here to pay for more of your daughters' depradations?"

"What did they do now?"

Irma Pince went into her office and came back holding a thick book. She flipped its pages fast. Little pictures in the corner blended together, making it look the the naked man that was depicted was really dancing. "This is a very rare book."

Draco, who was red again, started pulling Galleons out of his trouser pockets. Harry flipped the book pages several times. "You must admit, this shows real talent."

"They're both going to spend next summer working for Hagrid shovelling hippogriff and dragon manure," Draco grumped.

Harry made to give the book back to the librarian, but she wouldn't take it. "Your children defiled it. You paid for it. It's yours."

"Might I ask a favor of you?" Harry asked.

"You may ask. I'm not especially disposed to grant one to the man who's raised two destroyers of books, but try me."

"I'm interested in anything pertaining to our grandfathers. They attended Hogwarts during World War II. Charlus Potter and Abraxas Malfoy."

Pince disappeared into her office again, coming back with a dusty cardboard box that she set on a table. Harry untucked the flaps and found a pile of loose photographs. He and Draco sat and began to dig through them. "Look," Draco said excitedly. He held up a photo showing Charlus and Abraxas in Quidditch uniforms. They looked about fifteen, and were both wearing goggles. Charlus grinned widely as he held up a Snitch, while Abraxas glowered at him. Charlus tossed the Snitch in the air and grabbed Abraxas in a bear-hug; the other boy fought his way free, giving Charlus a withering glare.

_Charlus and Abraxas were the closest of friends off the Quidditch pitch, but when they played, they showed each other no mercy. Today, they'd both drawn blood. In the hospital wing, the Matron looked at them and shook her head. "I'm not taking care of you two any more unless you've an arm about to fall off. Patch each other know where the supplies are." She bustled off, headed to the greenhouse for healing herbs._

_Abraxas had gotten the worst of it today. Charlus made him sit on a cot while he dabbed dittany on a cut just under his eye. Abraxas prayed that Charlus wouldn't notice the way his pulse was racing. Abraxas was a boy who kept a lot hidden, but the secret he guarded the most closely was the way he'd started feeling about his best friend._

_"You must be pretty well bruised up, " Charlus said. "Take your shirt off."_

_Abraxas hesitated. He was so modest that he pulled his night-shirt on first and then disrobed beneath it. But he was awfully sore. He unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, revealing a strong, exercise-honed physique. Charlus rubbed the cool dittany all over his back, and Abraxas closed his eyes. It felt so good. He pulled his hair loose from its queue as Charlus moved on to his side, running his fingers through it to fluff it out. Charlus paused, staring at him. "What?"_

_Charlus smiled and grasped Abraxas' chin. Abraxas was suddenly quite beathless. "You're pretty." A strange, brief noise burst out of ' eyes grew big, and he grinned with delight. "You laughed! I made you laugh!"_

_"I do not laugh," Abraxas said frostily._

_"You did! I'm telling everyone! Malfoy can actually laugh!"_

_"It was a gasp of surprise."_

_Charlus leaned in and gave Abraxas a loud 'muah' right on the lips. He leaned back, still grinning that smug grin. "What, aren't you going to punch me?"_

_Abraxas was stunned. "I don't know. Try it again, and then I'll determine if it's a punching offense."_

_This time, the kiss was quieter, more lingering. "There. What do you think?"_

_"I still don't know. Try it again."_

_The kisses were chaste and close-mouthed, two inexperienced boys learning as they went. Charlus tangled the fingers of one hand in Abraxas' hair. When the infirmary door opened, they quickly pulled apart. Charlus finished cleaning Abraxas up as the Matron fussed over her herbs. Charlus was smiling again, but it wasn't the big, goofy grin. It was a cat-like smile, speaking of a secret shared._

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Madam Pince asked.

"I'll make a small donation to the library if you let me keep this photo," Harry said.

"Five Galleons, please. And five galleons more for the books your daughters will doubtlessly ruin in the future."

...

Harry stood at the gate, looking at the ruins of his parents' home. "Are you up to this?" Draco asked. He put an arm around Harry and squeezed.

Harry nodded. "I don't know why I didn't think to look here earlier."

Draco appraised the Potter cottage. "You'd best stay in the end that still has an intact roof. Anything in the other part would have been ruined by the elements long ago, so it's not worth the risk. You're sure you don't want me to come in with you?"

"If the whole thing comes down, it'd be better if only one of us dies."

Draco gave Harry a punch on his upper arm. "Don't joke about things like that! You know I don't like it."

Draco had mostly recovered from the obsessive-compulsive disorder that had plagued him in his late teens and early twenties, but he still some quirks. One of them was a superstitious dread of joking about death. "Sorry, hon." Harry kissed his husband on the cheek, and then opened the gate.

Harry dreamed about this house regularly, the way it was before it had been destroyed. It had been humble, considering the wealth of his father's family, but in those dreams, it was full of light and joy. Now one end was a tumble of rubble, covered with ivy that was working at pulling down what still stood. Harry walked through the tussocky garden, around the side of the house and to the back, where he found a door with faded, peeling red paint. It led directly into a small sitting room. There were drifts of leaves on the floor, and animals had raided the couch stuffing for nests, but it looked solid. An arched opening led to a short hall. Harry went up a flight of weather-beaten stairs, placing his feet on the outsides of the steps, where they'd be stronger.

Upstairs, Harry saw what he was looking for: a small doorway hiding the steps that led to the attic. When he reached the top, he startled a family pigeons. Much of the room was gone, and he had an excellent view of the sky. The animals had been at work here, too, shredding clothes that had been packed into cardboard boxes and divesting a Teddy bear of its innards.

There were some intact containers. A suitcase held Quidditch annuals and back issues of Witch Weekly. Plastic bins held mismatched plates and silverware. Harry lifted the lid from a hatbox and found an old 78 record. It was surprisingly heavy and rigid. On the paper sleeve, yellowed with age, was written the name 'Charlus Potter'. The song on the record was 'The White Cliffs of Dover,' sung by Vera Lynn.

_The soldiers at the 8th Club didn't know what to make of Abraxas until Charlus explained that the shorter youth was a cello player. The soldiers, almost to a man, referred to classical music as 'long-hair music,' so it made sense to them that a cello-player would have hair half-way down his back. Once they saw Abraxas do the Lindy Hop, they started calling him Crazy-Legs. Abraxas danced the Lindy the way he played Quidditch: fiercely, and with grace. He was in great demand as a partner with the girls. Charlus was almost as good, and his goofy charm drew the fairer sex to him. It made Abraxas nearly mad with jealousy, but, when they were alone, Charlus assured him that he was the only one._

_Tonight, the house band was on fire. The dance floor was seething with dancers, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of fresh sweat. Couples necked in dark corners, filled with the sort of ardor that living in a dangerous time could brunette that Abraxas was dancing with was a little tiddly, and making it clear that she was interested in more than just doing the Lindy. Abraxas managed to extricate himself before the next slow dance._

_A familiar delicate swirl of violin made everyone cheer. The girl singer stepped to the front of the stage, a vision of beauty with a silk hibiscus blossom in her hair and a violet taffeta gown hugging her curves. When she sang, everyone in the club sang along._

_"There'll be bluebirds over_

_The white cliffs of Dover_

_Tomorrow_

_Just you wait and see_

_I'll never forget the people I met_

_Braving those angry skies_

_I remember well as the shadows fell_

_The light of hope in their eyes_

_And though I'm far away_

_I still can hear them say_

_Bombs up..._

_But when the dawn comes up_

_There'll be bluebirds over_

_The white cliffs of Dover_

_Tomorrow_

_Just you wait and see_

_There'll be love and laughter_

_And peace ever after_

_Tomorrow_

_When the world is free_

_The shepherd will tend his sheep_

_The valley will bloom again_

_And Jimmy will go to sleep_

_In his own little room again_

_Therell be bluebirds over_

_The white cliffs of Dover_

_Tomorrow_

_Just you wait and see"_

_The song was a monster hit, on both Muggle radio and the WWN. It could make the toughest soldier cry. Charlus wandered over and took Abraxas in his arms and danced him backwards. The soldiers around them hooted and laughed at them, thinking it was a jape. Charlus sang into Abraxas' ear in his pleasant tenor. Abraxas had to work hard to keep his face impassive, to not give away his feelings. Those feelings were only for Charlus to see. _

_When the lights went up and it was time to go home, Charlus was all aglow. Out on the street, he chattered excitedly. "As soon as we graduate, we'll both join the Broomstick Battalion and take care of those Kraut wizards. We'll give them what-for."_

_Abraxas was less that thrilled about the idea, having lost his family to a war that was supposed to have been the very last war, ever. But he would follow Charlus anywhere, everywhere._

_On their way back to Charlus' place, they passed couples locked together in passionate embraces. Charlus laughed at Abraxas' reaction. "What? They're in love." Charlus dragged Abraxas into an alley. "Don't you ever just want to forget the world and-" Charlus pulled Abraxas to him and gave him a deep kiss._

_"What do you two think you're doing?" An outraged policeman stood at the entrance of the alley. "How dare you behave in such a disgusting manner in public!"_

_"We're not doing anything wrong!" Charlus said. "There's a girl with her dress up to her waist just across the street. Why aren't you bothering her?"_

_"Because she's a _woman_ with a _man_. As it should be. What you two are doing is against the law of the land and of God. Get out of here before I arrest you. I assure you, your sort does not have a good time in jail. The other inmates will especially like Goldilocks there."_

_Abraxas flushed angrily, but said nothing. "Come on, Abe." Charlus gave the cop a defiant look and put his hand on the small of Abraxas' back, gently steering him back out onto the street. Abraxas said nothing else all the rest of the way home. _

_Once they were in Charlus' room, Charlus put a finger under Abraxas' chin and lifted his face up. "It's not us that's wrong. It's _them_ that's wrong. How can love be against the law?"_

_"You want to fight for a country that would put us in prison just for making love to each other?" Abraxas was not usually prone to using language like 'making love,' but the lingering shame and anger of the encounter with the policeman made him uncharacteristically blunt. _

_"You can bet your bottom Galleon that the Krauts are worse. I heard they just kill people like us."_

_People like us. Abraxas had never really thought of it like that before. It had always just been Charlus and him, together. "But you like girls, too. So it's not so much people like us. It's people like me."_

_"You only ever liked boys?"_

_Abraxas was silent a moment, gazing up into Charlus' eyes. "I've only ever liked you," he said. Charlus got the cat-like smile that he used only for Abraxas, then leaned in for a kiss. "The door," Abraxas said. The last thing he wanted was for one of the elder Potters to walk in on Charlus and him fooling around. _

_Charlus put a locking charm on the door and cast a muting spell for extra privacy. "Now let's get those clothes off of you."_

_Abraxas blushed at Charlus' directness, but it pleased him. He loved knowing how much Charlus wanted him. He loved the way his boyfriend's eyes heated up at the sight of his body, and the way Charlus couldn't resist sinking his hands into Abraxas' hair. He quirked an eyebrow when Charlus started whistling 'The White Cliffs of Dover" as he unbuttoned Abraxas' shirt and trousers._

_Still fully dressed, Charlus plopped down onto a chair, pulling the now-nude Abraxas into his lap. He pulled Abraxas' glasses off and tossed them on the dresser. "Merlin and Morgan, you're beautiful." _

Harry picked up the record and a photograph fell out. It was Abraxas in his Hogwarts uniform shirt and trousers. The shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, displaying a muscular torso, and his green and silver striped Slytherin tie was draped loosely around his neck. He clutched his wand nervously, gazing dubiously at the camera. He spoke, lips moving silently, and then he smiled. _Abraxas_. The Malfoy who was notorious for never smiling. He took his glasses off and shook his mane a bit. Merlin and Morgan, he was _exquisite_.

Why had Charlus had such a sexy picture of Abraxas? Harry was starting to believe that there was more between the two men than just friendship.

...

Harry glanced up from the television to the clock. The meeting of the board of directors for the Museum of Wizarding History must have been running late. Meetings, speeches, budgets, the reading of minutes, voting on the color that the chairs in the cafeteria should be... Draco enjoyed that sort of thing, but it made Harry twitch. Generous endowments from the Malfoys had gotten the Museum up and running in Hogsmeade eight years ago. Hermione had left her job at the Ministry to be its curator.

Harry was just starting to wonder if he should get some take-out curry for dinner when he heard the front door open. "Harry! Harry! I've got something for you!" Draco came into the living room waving a manila envelope. "Items from the 101st Wizard Squadron were found in a storage shed and donated to the Museum. Hermione says that this really should go to you, not the Museum."

Inside the envelope Harry found a folded, sealed sheet of parchment. On it was written in a sloppy hand: "In the event of Charlus Potters' death, this is to be sent to Abraxas Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshur."

_They'd had this argument a few too many times._

_"You can still enlist," Charlus said._

_"I will not fight this Muggle war!" Abraxas snarled._

_Charlus went to run his fingers through his hair, a gesture he often made when exasperated, but the military barber had left him no hair to work with. "It's not just a Muggle war, dammit!"_

_Abraxas would never admit the truth. It was too humiliating. He'd tried to enlist, but had been rejected for being too short. _

_"I don't want to fight any more," Charlus said, in a tired voice. "Tomorrow, I-" He shook his head. "I can't tell you that. I can't give you any details. But something big is happening, and I'm going to be part of history. Wouldn't it be a shame if our last night together was spent fighting?"_

_Abraxas' stomach dropped. Ever since Charlus had enlisted, Abraxas had made an effort to not to think about the danger that Charlus faced, about what it would be like to be all alone again. It frightened him too much._

_"Come here," Charlus ordered. Abraxas obeyed, nestling in Charlus' arms. They moved onto Abraxas' bed and there was no need to speak for a while. Skin on skin, lips on lips; it was all the communication they needed._

_Abraxas' eyes popped open when he realized what Charlus was going to attempt to do next. "No, I don't want to do that yet."_

_Charlus pouted comically. "Why not? The book says it feels good."_

_"It'll hurt."_

_"I'll be gentle."_

_"Just, please, not yet, all right?"_

_"All right. You're just so sexy that you're hard to resist, sweetcheeks."_

_Abraxas groaned. "Must you call me sweetcheeks?"_

_"Yes, I must." Charlus nipped and kissed his way down Abraxas' chest and stomach._

_..._

_"We have breaking news. The dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald has been defeated. I repeat, the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, ally of the Nazi regime, has been defeated. A daring raid two days ago on his fortress prison of Nurmengard allowed Albus Dumbledore to disarm him, and Grindelwald is now confined to his own prison. Dumbledore was able to accomplish this because many other wizards gave their lives to keep him alive. We don't have names yet, but preliminary reports indicate that, out of two-hundred and fifty wizards, only seventeen survived."_

_Abraxas dropped the tea cup he had been sipping from, not hearing the smash of fine china on the drawing room floor._

_"The survivors are being treated at St. Mungo's," the WNN announcer continued._

_Abraxas apparated from the Manor._

_..._

_"I'm sorry, sir. I can find no record of a Charlus Potter having been treated here recently," said the smocked woman at the information desk. _

_"He was on that mission. He must be here. He _must _be here." Abraxas slammed a fist down on the counter._

_"You have my condolences, sir."_

_"I don't want your condolences, I want _Charlus_!" Abraxas snarled. He had to turn away from the look of pity in the woman's eyes. Unseeing, he exited the hospital and wandered the streets of London with no goal in mind. He found himself in the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by revellers._

_"The war's as good as over for us wizards, innit?" a man crowed as he lifted a pint. The happy mob around him cheered and spontaneously burst into a chorus of 'The White Cliffs of Dover.' Abraxas shouldered his way throught the press of people, needing to get away from their cheerfulness. _

_Diagon Alley wasn't as crowded, but the people there were no less giddy. Abraxas found himself being hugged and kissed against his will by random witches. His eyes began to sting."I don't cry. I don't ever cry," he muttered to himself._

_"There are only fifteen survivors now," Abraxas heard someone say, "Two of them died in hospital. And a third one doesn't look so good, I hear."_

_Abraxas' mind was full of the things he wished he could say to Charlus: _I love you, I don't know how I'm going to survive losing you, I'm so sorry about all the fights we had, I wish that on the night before you left that I'd let you-

_Someone was whistling 'The White Cliffs of Dover,' just as Charlus had done more times than Abraxas could count. Abraxas closed his eyes, not caring that people were staring at him as s he stood motionless in the middle of the street. Charlus was gone. Charlus was gone._

_The whistling stopped abruptly. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"_

_Abraxas' eyes popped open. There was Charlus right in front of him. He had bruises on his face and his right hand was wrapped in gauze, but, otherwise, he looked just fine. More than fine. _Perfect. _Abraxas seized him in an embrace, bending him backwards and kissing him deeply. He wanted the kiss to tell Charlus _everything_. When he came for up air, he noticed dozens of people gaping at them. Oh, _Merlin_. The shocked expressions faded into mirth, and men started grabbing each other for theatrical kisses. "Good one, Malfoy!" someone shouted._

_"Look what you've done, Abe. Mervin Flint is snogging his cousin Norm. I'm going to have nightmares about that." Charlus was grinning, but there was a sadness behind the smile. _

_"I... I'm sorry about... All those men you served with and-gone..." Abraxas found himself nearly inarticulate. "It hurts to be nearly the only left."_

_Charlus put a hand on Abraxas' shoulder and squeezed. "Can we go to your place? I need to be alone with you."_

_As soon as they were inside the Manor, Charlus attacked Abraxas with a desperate passion that was completely unlike his usual gentle love-making. Abraxas let himself be ravaged, not complaining even when he bled. He was so glad to have Charlus in his arms again, _alive_, that he wouldn't have minded being permanently scarred. He lay under his lover, gasping with mingled pain and pleasure, being driven nearly out of his mind in the middle of the entrance hall of his manor. _

_Afterwards, Charlus looked rueful. "I didn't mean to hurt you."_

_Abraxas reached up and caressed his lover's cheek. "It's fine. Though I think the rugburn is going to sting for a while."_

_"I think we've thoroughly scandalized your house elf. Why are you looking at me like that."_

_"I went to St. Mungo's to find you, but they had no record of you being there. I thought you were-" Abraxas' voice hitched a little._

_"Are you crying?"_

_"I don't cry!" Abraxas snapped._

_"I wasn't hurt badly enough to need St. Mungo's. Me and Albus Dumbledore were the last wizards still on our brooms at the end. You should have seen the duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. It was amazing." Charlus kissed Abraxas on the nose. "Not as amazing as you, though. I'm on leave for a couple of weeks. Can I stay here with you?"_

Harry stared at the letter for several moments. He opened the red wax seal carefully with a fingernail and unfolded the parchment. Draco settled onto the couch next to him, putting his head on Harry's shoulder so he could the letter read, too. "I hadn't realized that anyone had worse handwriting that you, Harry."

"Shut it." Deciphering Charlus' scrawl was difficult, but after ten minutes of squinting, Harry could make most of it out:

"Dearest Abraxas,

If your'e reading this, I died while trying to take out Grindellwald. I hope the mission sucseeded.

I know its' risky writing a letter like this. Our lives could be ruined if it fell into the wrong hands. There have been times and places where you and I would'nt have had to hide our relationship. Unfortunatly we live in the here and now where people think its' all right to put a man in prison for the crime of being in love with another man. I didn't tell you how much I love you enough times. But I think you know. And I know how much you love me.

It always made me sad knowing that in the end we could never be together like we want to be. Eventully we'd both have to do what society expects of us and get married and have kids. I'd be happy to do the whole growing old together rootine with you, if I could. (I'm the only one that could ever put up with you for long anyhow ha ha ha)

I'm glad we made up last night (and how!) so your last memory of me will be a good one. Don't ever cut that gorgious mane of yours or I'll haunt you from the grave.

I love you,

Charlus"

Harry noticed Draco wiping his eyes and sniffling. "He didn't die on the mission, Draco."

"I know. But he was right. They couldn't be together like they wanted to be, and they had marry other people. It's so sad. Poor Grandfather." Draco hiccuped a little. "He had so much taken away from him."

"You do realize that if they had been able to marry each other, you and I would never have been born, right?" Harry put an arm around Draco and gave him a comforting squeeze and a kiss; if there was one thing guaranteed to make the blond emtional, it was his Grandfather Abraxas. Draco surprised Harry by pouncing on him, pushing him down on the couch and yanking at his clothes. The letter fell to the floor, temporarily forgotten. Afterwards, they lay together in a limp, sweaty heap. Harry grinned happily. "What got into you, Draco?"

"I just felt like exercising my freedom to love who I want to love." Draco's body was draped on top of Harry's. The man was still as slim as he'd been as a teenager.

"Maybe Potters and Malfoys are genetically inclined to fall in love with each other. Maybe my dad and your-"

"_Don't you dare_."

"Lucius and Ja-OW! What the hell was that?"

"A Slytherin snakebite. You completely deserved that."

"It's a good thing you're pretty, as mean as you are."

Draco got up and stretched, giving Harry a nice show. "And I'm a fabulous cook, too. I'm going to boil up some of that shrimp I got today."

"Naked?"

Draco just gave Harry a coquettish look over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen... naked. Well, Harry was going to have to watch _that_. Chances were it wouldn't happen again for a very long time, especially with the girls due home for the summer soon.

First, Harry picked up the letter. It went into a fireproof safe with other precious things: pictures of his family, his marriage license, the girls' adoption papers. Though the most precious 'thing' of all was in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron.


End file.
